Schitzo – Manifestation Of A Nomad…Jack Kerouac, Lowell’s Son And Bastard Saint (Excerpts Part 2)…[Second Pass Edit]… Just so people know Part 1 has not been published yet, so we’ll start here. These are excerpts from an early version of a non-fiction memoir. Again this is a true story…the caveat being that what readers take from this may have dissenting opinions of it’s possibility to be true. For example, some might not agree or believe in the possibility of descriptions of phenomena described herein, and see them as delusional experiences (this is key and left for the reader to decide). Again that is the point, each reader will see these descriptions as they relate to their own personal beliefs. It is written with the highest regard to accuracy, and is in relation to the entire story, only a small piece of what the complete story has to offer readers. This is just a taste, and the final name of this memoir has not been completed as of the date of this being published. Finally, the text is subject to change with subsequent rewrites. Enjoy!

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Excerpt #1: Pre-Amble –

So I want to be an author, but all I could think of is what right did I have to try and be anywhere near the caliber of a wordsmith as many of the world greats that had come before me. My writing is shit to be honest, but again it comes back to my belief that this is a long term learning process, always reaching for the sky to attain higher levels of this disciplined art. What I do have going for me is the many experiences that have been laid out before me to explore, going deeper when there was no shovel to dig. My fingernails are stained from the soil, my hands chaffed and cracked, dry to the bone from the rare earth and loam.

Each piece that I write is part of a specific set of exercises that I look to explore and hopefully master at some point in the future. The most exciting part of this experiment, that will unfold right before your eyes, is that each piece is published in relation to how I feel they belong in the overall story since the start of this process. Each piece calls to me when it is meant to be posted. What that fully means I do not know, but something prompts my conscious mind, and lets me know that this (whatever that means at that specific moment) is what is to be published next. Some might see it as just the human mind doing what it’s supposed to do, others may see it as a higher calling. Maybe it is a little of both, regardless to me at least, it is an interesting look into the creative process.

Excerpt #2:

I had been brainstorming for weeks, months maybe, thinking so hard that my brain began to hurt. I was in transition from being a dreamer to a thinker and it was very very hard. I had always been a fierce dreamer, the problem being that it was taking all the brain power afforded to me. After many years, a lifetime really, the dreaming had literally taken over all of my mind. Even worse, is that through the years I did not even notice it. Then at some point dreaming became so dominant that I sometimes could not tell the difference between fantasy and reality. It was as if I lived in a cartoon or was in the throes of full fledged dissociative episode where I was often living vicariously through an outer body experience. It was not as some have described as looking down on their body’s in a situation where they were close to death, it was for me as if my body was going through the actions pertinant to the life situation and my detached soul taking the ghostly human form, sitting right next to me as my unconscious mind had completely taken over. My detached self was prompting my earthly self to react as if I was a character in a video game.

I was a sleeper and I loved to lucid dream where I would drift half my life away, just as I had in a previous life as an opium addict, frequenting opium dens where I would indulge and float around, never seeming to reach a complete state of sleep. There I would explore the universe without having to get off the hard bamboo mat, where my body would lie with my mind shelved on a small pillow. Now don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with an overactive imagination, obviously it is in part, absolutely vital to reaching our full potential. At the time, more of it the better I thought. It would help me to experience more of life with an open mind…and for the most part it did. Having an overactive imagination opened my mind to experience all that I could, and helped me to understand and accept many things that others seem to have a hard time reconciling about the human race and the breadth of differences in people. There was plenty of logic in there as well, which I now know I had confused to be a full fledged thought process, but logic is only a small part of a robust thinking mind.

I had come to the realization that I now had to rewire my neuronal pathways in my brain to be more of a thinker, and put the data stores in my mind to good use as there was no use for them in an overwhelmed dreaming mind. Too many thoughts and experiences coming into brain storage and not much of that coming back out with intelligent efficiency. Think of it like having hard disks or sets of file cabinets in your mind, and they are all overflowing with billions of separate thoughts coming and going into and out of consciousness. There is only so much space before they begin to overflow, losing and misfiling pieces of paper or data. At some point when these pieces of information are called forth by the conscious mind, the problem faced is that the data or files are now incomplete, corrupt, and damaged. You can imagine the problems this would begin to cause…wait, what were we talking about, I completely lost my train of thought.

Now all that might sound foreign to some as each person’s mind learns and is wired differently, but we’ve all heard the old addage as well as the song “Don’t fall in love with a dreamer”…as well as the part about the fool. It also happens that many people have a more healthy balance and division in their use of brainpower. For those who do not, like me, I’m apt to say that everything happens for a reason. If I had not developed the way I had just described, I definitely would not be writing all the things I am now. So what might be seen as weakness, I am now flipping on it’s head (No pun intended), and turning it into a form of strength. In the extremes, It is how many people with seemingly devastating and debilitating disabilities, forge on with heroic stamina and poise. With all that said, we cannot forget that societal stigma tends to deny that hidden wounds and internal mental scars can be just as devastating, if not worse.

In being a dominant dreamer, I can now see how so many are held back by it’s comforting yet deceptive charm. Also as in many cases we are not taught the difference between dreaming and thinking, that there is a huge psychological and cognitive difference. The phenomenon is often described that the affected person cannot see the forest for the trees. As I realize all of this, it’s like a light switch has turned on in my brain. Spending days, months, and recently years forcing myself to brainstorm, think, and write…I can actually now, as I put pen to page, feel the physical transition and transformation taking place in my head. The dendrites and neurons in my brain are rewiring as I speak. I now regularly go in and out of what are commonly referred to as peak experiences, and reaching the tipping point the words come to the page like an avalanche. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins with excitement, my body a neuro-chemical suit. As you can imagine it is not easy mentally making that transition, I can assure you that. There is so much to tell…I cannot get the words out fast enough…It’s going to take me a lifetime (which I do not have) to complete, but I will do my best.

Excerpt #3:

The people began to feel lost in the coldest and darkest period in history. Freewill was their ball and chain and again they were frightened. The sage began to speak, “Flung into the darkness”, the man continued…”I was given the knowledge that is available to all men and women, all you have to do is stop and listen. My Father’s Father was a great man. My Father’s Father’s Brother was also a great man. They recognized and chose to focus on the hope and the possibility for good in all humanity and became proprietors for the people.” They knew that they could bring the people great joy and that it was good. The world had just emerged from one of the greatest threats to all humanity, the greatest war against evil, men and women had ever known. This was not about religion, or dogma, or God…far from it as a matter of fact. What is known is that in exchange for winning the most tumultuous war of all time, in defeating evil this time, that it had not under any circumstances been destroyed. There were many like my family, who had great faith in mankind as well as in the trees, sun, oceans, stones, and soil. In order for the great war to have been one, it was well known that with all good there had to great evil…thus the world was slung into the universe, and bones ground to dust.

The evil that all humans knew continued to roam the land, taking the weak to their knees as they worshipped instant gratification into a blinding obsession. The shortsighted were once again unaware and blinded by love, roaming the earth for souls to influence and nurture…but there was a catch. The catch being that the earth was now slightly more than fifty percent evil, and slightly less than fifty percent good, so evil forces would always have a stronger attraction than good. The difference seems slight but but paradoxically immense and infinite. Legend has it that Mother Nature was to watch over this split and further the wisest mind of all time. Whatever it was that was greater than the Mother was androgynous and absent of human form, and the life and energy and the future and the past and the intersection of all things, held the universe together in a balance (ebb and flow) beyond the conception of anyone on earth. The equation of this meticulous and benevolent balance (never quite reaching perfect equilibrium), proved order through chaos, encouraging expansive outward movement in the formation of the evolutionary space-time continuum. The constant tension of opposing forces is key to the development of both the universe and the species.

All that the people knew was that they were naked and flawed. They felt the urge to compete, and there were no laws. So the people had to create laws, and although unavoidably flawed, they had to be born out of protection for people who ought not be taken advantage of. There were many who wanted to be “Gods”, even though there was no proof that there was such a thing. Some of these self-proclaimed “Gods” were fare and charitable. On the other hand there were many self-proclaimed “Gods” who were miserable and yearned for more and more power. They did not care about the people, drunk on the blood and tears on those they held influence and sought to destroy. This was the cost of freewill. This was not beset upon the people, the people beset it upon themselves.

The earthly gravitational microcosm was the family, and the intention was good, although flawed. There was tension, but the intention was good, although flawed. There was learning, and the intention was good, although again flawed. Until one day when the son of the Father’s Father felt inferior for one reason or another, and that son took the burdens of all of his family that had come before him as personal. This son saw an opportunity to exploit a weakness, a metaphorical cancer, which he also had the choice to extinguish. Instead of stomping it out, he let it flourish because he felt slighted and inferior. At the time he did not distinguish it for a cancer that would grow and swell uncontrollably to magnanimous proportions, fed by the bitterness of his brothers scorn. There were many incidents along the way which inadvertently spurned and encouraged the disease. At some point it grew out of the control of the weaker son’s hands, the point at which he had the opportunity to stop the spread had come and gone, and he was blinded by hate. Some of it was rational but more of it was not. This brother sadly believed that if he waited for just the right time, when no one was looking he could destroy his brother, the people however would be the real victims. Because he was blind, he could not see beyond his brother. If he had to spend his entire life (till his dying day) trying to destroy his sibling, he would, even if it also meant the destruction of himself as well all he held dear.

Excerpt #4:

One night as the scorned brother was sleeping, in his dreams he came upon a powerful force in the form of a spirit. It was very hard to see but he knew that it was there. He felt power and awe and riches, beyond the dreams of any man who had come before him. He felt compelled to kneel before the force to get a better look, as it was very very dark. Without a moments notice, as he tried to focus on the spiritual force, he realised he could see the massive enticing power before him if he kept his eyes closed. It was then then that the dark force seemed to reach out to the scorned brother, and the powerful said to him…

I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,

We have not met before, but you always knew I was there for you.

It was before my stay in the womb that you were conceived.

Taking the position of the blind, with one exception, the ability to feel.

Is it not so quiet with so many around.

People weakened from participating in humanity.

May I touch your face as I cannot see to well? As my fingers cross the breeze and I feel your scars…

They are smooth and rough as the result of many fine years.

With your eyes closed, is it not true that I let you see?

Does the grass not grow, as we watch, right beneath our feet?

Does the sun not feed, insatiable…Does the water not quench, parched?

It offers me a gentle and pure time, with the dearly beloved.

Wait not, come into me and I into you, let me show you the world!

And you me, know that your secrets are safe with me.

Let me do the walking as you rest, forgotten son.

As we join together in spirit, you keep what you have, and I give you the rest.

The future is yours for all eternity.

It is all about you now and forever will be. With all of us…

Excerpt #5:

I found myself plastered to my bed with fear and agitation. My musculature was tightly shaking, anchored as if taught rubber bands were wound tight around my bones. I was in the throes of an uncontrollable full body spasm with no end in sight, grinding my teeth so tight and unable to swallow. Burying my face into my pillow, I tried to meditate to calm my nerves which were exploding with sharp pains as if I was lying on a plywood bed of nails. Parts of my extremities were falling asleep and waking with no warning, just as one feels when they get pins and needles in a foot or arm from pinched nerves. Sweat leaked from my pores, although there was no sign of fever, it was in a word brutal. I did not know how long i could keep this up as my mind was anxiously suggesting that I was going completely insane.

I was lying in a bed next to the nurses station and there was only one incandescent light in that area with a single nurse doing paperwork. The room was otherwise completely dark and as my eyes were adjusted to the darkness, I could see thirty other beds in the same room all full with patients, many writhing in different states of insanity. Some were vomiting and others were screaming out loud in all kinds of noisy agony, the nurse just sat there as if this was normal. The large room was only separated by the warm humid outside air by large screens and there was no breeze. I was hoping upon deception that a cool breeze would pass over my body, but it was not to be. Out in the yard, in plain sight, there was an extremely large industrial size bug zapper where hundreds of mosquitoes and moths were electrocuted with every passing moment. With the constant biological genocide before me, I found myself wishing to be in their place…just kill me and put me out of my misery. I thought to myself that if there was a hell, this would surely be it.

My mind began to wander aimlessly, I was not being kept there against my will…mulling over the idea that I could just walk out the main screen door not far from where I was interned at any time. Then the reality of the situation would hit…where would I go? It was quite feasable and a bit calming to think that I would probably feel better just getting this out of my system, running off into the black night screaming my head off until I fell to the ground in complete exhaustion. The problem was that I did not have the energy to make this happen, exhausted from my hopeless quivering corpse. There was a clock on the far wall that would unervingly tick tick tick, every deafening second heard through the cries of despair and agony…every single moment felt like hours.

It was then that I realized, with nothing left in the tank, that before I had come to this godawful place that my father had given me a set of brand new rosary beads in a small leather pouch. They were in a drawer right near were my head was situated, but I was convinced at what help would they give…none, I’m sure. As I began to choke on the frothing saliva from my mouth and nose, I suddenly felt compelled to go for the beads. I removed the beads from the pouch and grasped them tight enough to rip them apart. After wrapping them a few times around each hand, the crucifix fell into the palm of my hands surreptitiously, as if that was the place it was supposed to be. Also inside the pouch was a small piece of folded glossy paper with prayers and a step by step method on how to use the beads. The instructions indicated what sections of the beads corresponded to each of the individual stations of the cross. I was not the praying type and did not even know if I believed in any God. Having no place to go and seeing no harm in attempting to just say the words and go through the motions, even if it only meant helping me to pass the time, anything to ride out this physically emotional and psychological trauma.

The one light in the background of the nurses station helped me to just make out the words on the paper now unfolded and laid out before me. I first said an opening prayer as instructed, and then began to go through the stations of the cross one by one…it was unintelligible, choppy, and manic, but I soldiered on. I would forget where I was and lose my spot as I mechanically moved the beads through my wiry shaking fingers. I found myself tentatively re-reading passages and sentences over and over as I made my way through the process. Sweat dripping from my hands and forehead, acidic fluid that upon contact with the print on the glossy instructions, rendered the words illegible. As I was doing all of this, I simultaneously was pleading with the universe to please let this pass, please-please-please let this pass.

At some point a few minutes later the shaking began to wane somewhat. I was ecstatic that just faking it and going through the motions was working. Suddenly stunned into a kind of stasis, In the air above the other patients right before my eyes, appeared what looked to be a hologram but it was more real than that. There in an almost indescribable full range of color and motion, appeared a perfectly symmetrical apparition several feet wide. At first there were several wrapped layers of green interwoven prickled thorn strands, wrapped around a beating heart that had flames shooting out the aortic canal at the crest. About two feet on each side of the wreath of rotating thorns, the ether seemed to produce a moving universe where time and space were flowing towards but not fully reaching me. My eyes no longer welded closed, then witnessed a woman appear above the heart in full color, while all the imagery that I just described was in constant motion all around her. I had to be hallucinating this I thought, but I’ve never hallucinated without drugs before. Anyway I continued to experience this phenomena as it was quite amazing and in turn began to calm my wretched frame. The woman looked only to what I could recognize as Mary the Mother of Jesus, seated and draped in a blue and white separated headdress and full body shawl, while the flames from the aortic valve flashed in her lap. She had a slight ethereal white halo rotating around her head.

All around her were what I recognized too be visions of men and women saints (if you believe in that sort of thing) and androgynous angels coming and going, propping her up in the air as I just lay there plussed. At some point her lips began to move but there was no auditory projection, nonetheless I somehow knew what she was indicating…that ‘I had to make a choice’. As soon as I realized this, I could see what I can only describe as the ‘forces of light’ situated to her right side. For some reason I equated this ‘welcoming force’ with the presence of ‘Jesus’ although there was no sight of what I could impossibly perceive to be ‘his’ likeness. I actually felt a calm bliss with the ‘forces of light and ‘peace’. Simultaneously on her left side was also only what I can describe as the ‘forces of darkness’. Similarly there was no ‘demon or satan’ but the ‘impression was put upon me’ that they were there in the same way that ‘The Son Of God’ was there on the opposite side. From the ‘dark forces’, I felt ‘power and strength greater than I had ever known’, and it sent shivers up my spine and riddled goosebumps all over my skin. There were no more words, but the side with the ‘dark forces’ was the only side trying to ‘make its case to coax, convey, and convince me to come to their side’. It was ‘implied’ that the ‘world would be mine…power and riches beyond my dreams, no more room for pain, and eternal glory’. Focussing back on the side with the ‘good forces’, there was no hard sell and no promises, but ‘calm, peace, and eternal life’.

As I gripped the rosary tight, I thought to myself I have to make a leap, I had to make a choice (well really I did not have to, but I did anyway), even if it was going through the motions as I said before. I checked to make sure I was not dreaming…but I was wide awake. I always could tell when I was in a dreaming state and I was surely WIDE AWAKE! So I made my decision and ‘click’ everything went black and all the pain and shaking stopped. As I lay there for a moment, I felt a rush of adrenaline and power. I wanted to yell out what had just happened or tell the nurse but I was rendered small, minute, and humbled.

Next thing I know I was suddenly stunned and shocked awake in a pool of sweaty white sheets. The clock on the far wall revealed it was early afternoon the next day. Exactly twelve hours later from 2 a.m. when the visions occured…I was covered in itchy hives and the clock read 2 p.m.

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CM ☕

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Speak Of The Devil ~ My Brushes With Outlaw Motorcycle Culture…Hells Angels [Third Pass Edit]…
I must preface this article by saying that I have never been a member of the Hells Angels or any other Outlaw Motorcycle Club. Also the intention here is for a nonjudgmental look at my experience in respect to the Hells Angels. No Hells Angels insignias are used herein, in respect of copyright control.

“If you have to ask, then you will never know”

Photo Courtesy Of Doc Keyaza !

It all began on the avenues, their was a nightly curfew from 8pm to 6am, this had nothing to do with the Hells Angels, it was because of the epidemic of drug activity from crack cocaine that was prevalent in the area. I never remember being harrassed by the local police for being out during the curfew as long as we were in a vehicle. I do remember watching out the front of our house window, people were getting busted for drug sales all the time. There was also some crazy situations we witnessed as well. One time there was a guy in a car, who was ramming it into the front of a house, over and over a hundred or more times before the police arrived to arrest him. At some point the car caught fire and the police arrived just in time to pull him out. I don’t know what he was trying to accomplish, but he surely had to be out of his mind, doing something like this.

Just setting the stage here, other times we were part of the action. Our neighbors had just gotten married, and the guy I was living with came home with the (neighbors) bride right after the ceremony, and they were very drunk…they had sex in the room next to mine as the wedding after party was being held outside my window. I know, how sweet, arghhhh. I don’t know whatever happened to the married couple as I did not know them personally, but whacked out shit just like this was always happening. It would not be the last time I would be thinking wide eyed with my jaw on the floor at some sort of incident that was going on in the neighborhood. It’s safe to say it was a pretty rough area.

The guy I was living with, who is now dead from heart attack complications related to heavy cocaine and alcohol use (Again nothing to do with the HA), was friends with a Hells Angel and thus a couple of times we went to parties with him at two of their (HA) clubhouses. We never went inside the actual clubhouses, but would attend block parties that they would throw. It must be said that both of the clubhouses were in safe neighborhoods and many of the people that lived around them seemed to be content to have the HA in their area. No one would dare commit any crimes anywhere near the viscinity of the HA. I know a lot of people would have qualms with that statement, ‘that they were happy’ having them in their neighborhood. I’m not an idiot… again this piece is my experience, not my telling others what their opinions should look like about any OMC.

At some point my roomate brought home tickets to a Hells Angels pig roast and party blowout weekend that was being held at a local compound and plot of land then owned by one of the HA members. You’ve got to remember that this was just before the time of the internet and cell phones, and the only thing people knew of the HA was what had been passed down from mouth to mouth, what you saw on the local news, or read in books. There was a mystique and a legendary respect for the club because of their attitude toward freedom and secrecy. It must be said that because of the area that I lived in, The Northeastern US, the Hells Angels were the most powerful presence in this part of the country, if you were in Florida or Texas you would have had the similar prescence from another Outlaw Mortorcycle Club. With that said it’s hard to argue with the fact that the HA is the most famous Club in history as a result of their prescence at many historical events over the last sixty plus years since their inception in California in 1948.

Anyway I did not know what to expect of the weekend pig roast and party that we were going to on that early Friday afternoon in June. We drove outside the city and took a sharp left down a long dirt road that I was not familiar with, which was way out in the woods and there were no residential neighborhoods nearby. After a mile or so of backcountry we came to an entrance that was fenced in and high with barbed wire. There was an unlocked fence gate with a heavy chain lock that was wide open for vehicles and bikes to enter the grounds. There were bikers at the gate drinking beers and tearing tickets to the event, and they asked my friend who had invited us to the private party. After he mentioned the name, they let us take our car in.

After a short drive up another short dirt road we came upon a grassy area where the cars parked as there was a separate area for motorcycles across the cleared field. After getting out the car we walked over to a refrigerated truck with ten Budweiser taps on each side, got keg cups and filled them up. There was one house on the grounds which I came to realize was one of the HA members’ place, a private area that had signs to stay away from, with Pit-bulls and Rottweilers out front. On the other side of the lot there was an extremely large garage with five bays all opened where Club members and others were sitting on picnic tables drinking. There was a rock band inside one of the bays playing hard rock covers and they were quite good.

Photo Courtesy Of Doc Keyaza !

To the left of the garage was a bon fire as well as several meat smokers that where rotating large pigs by chain from several rotators…the smell of the roasting pork was heavenly. Just thinking about it brings that glorious smell to the tip of my tongue. Thus began our weekend descent into wild excess just about any way one could imagine. One thing that really stood out was the coming and going of different charters and other HA friendly clubs throughout the weekend. Groups of twenty to thirty bikers in formation would arrive whooping and hollering and kicking up dirt as the revved their engines announcing their arrival to the event. The most awe inspiring thing that I remember about this is when the same separate groups of bikers would leave, they would line up in formation with the highest ranking members at the front. Once all lined up, they would stand in place and rev their bike engines as loud as they possibly could…I tell you the hair stood up on the back of my neck as this amazing hellfire roar would go on for about five minutes for each formation before leaving. Then with a nod of the head of each pack they would ride out kicking up a cloud of dust that the revelers drinking at the bash would just absolutely rage in. This went on all weekend and I never got tired if it.

When the pigs were done roasting on the spit, they had large wooden chopping tables where they would hack them up. Inside the garage where hundreds of bags of fresh onion rolls, many gallon jugs of barbecue sauce. Anyone could just walk up to the cutting table with a plate and the cook would put a huge tender chunk of pork on your plate. Then after getting a huge roll and smothering it with barbecue sauce, oh my…it was the best tasting pork sandwich ever. We were wolfing these down and then they brought out several huge metal wire carriages which secured twenty or more whole chickens ready to cook and threw them on the fire, when they were done cooking we indulged in them as well. All the beer you could drink, a few fat joints and we were well on our way.

Now the thing that I found interesting is that throughout the whole weekend there was no hard drugs done out in the open. I know they had to be around but it was not noticeable which was surprising to me. No complaints here, everyone was having a good time getting stuffed and toasted. At some point, twice in the weekend, someone drove a bike up and said the cops were at the gate but no one cared. It was private property and no one was causing any trouble, they never came up the roadway. We heard that they were just making their rounds and checking to see that there was no trouble, as long as we stayed on the property everything was fine. I was a young teen at the time and was just taking everything in, almost everyone else was of drinking age and higher. The police at the time were not as hard on underage drinkers in my experience at other parties that I would go to at the time, they would just break things up and send everyone home.

As the day moved on to painters light, I remember at some point I went to refill my beer and as I was walking back to the party, I spotted this girl walking toward me and I froze she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She had this loose fitting flowing sundress with wild paisley patterns and she had flowers in her hair. I could see the sun passing through the wind swept fabric of her dress and the shadow silhouette of her nude body. She had this hair up in a purposefully loose fishtail braid…and those eyes, OMG I could see into her soul and it was so pure. I was instantly in love, I began to imagine and play through the thoughts in my mind of me taking care of her for the rest of my life. I stopped to say hello, we got to chattering and I shared my beer with her and I don’t remember all of what was said be we got on quite well.

I do remember asking her if she was at the party with anyone, never want to be messing with someones lady…that would be really a bad scene as you could imagine. She said no and I asked her her age and she said eighteen and then asked me in return and I said seventeen. She laughed at me and said, ‘ you’re not seventeen’ (she was right I was actually thirteen and I did not tell her that), but I said would I have a tattoo if I was under eighteen, and I showed it to her. Eighteen was the age to get a tattoo in the state. She let it go and soon we were in each others arms playfully holding each other and leaning on to the front of someones car hood. As it began to get dark I asked if I could kiss her and she said yes. Yes ladies and gentlemen, this was my first time kissing a girl and as you know one does not forget that. We playfully made out for like two hours, and as you could imagine it felt like we were only there for a short time. I was in heaven…just kissing and embracing is very underrated. So hot!

Her womanly curves were so beautiful and intriguing. I can still remember how amazing she smelled. Again it felt like time had stopped, but it never went farther than that. In some ways I was glad for that, her leaving me wanting so much more. I respected her so much for that…sounds strange in this day and age but it was true. Well at some point she said she had to go and we swapped numbers. Then she left and my heart was on the ground, dragging in the grass trailing right behind her as she walked away. I stood there stunned and bloated from a head full of dopamine. I was confused and in love simultaneously and I had no idea what to do! So I shook it off (get your head out of the gutter, muahhh) and gathered myself and walked back to the party…when I emerged from the cars everyone at the party looked at me and started whooting and hollering and clapping. I think they thought I got laid or something, they were shoving shots of all kinds of liquor from Jägermeister to Sambucca in celebratory reckoning. It was fun nonetheless, my head was exploding, you know like fireworks going off on the Brady Bunch.

Soon after, my roommate wanted to drop some acid so he gave me my choice of blue windowpane or green gels. I went for a green gel because they were stronger, and after that there were a few different bands that played. One band was playing rock covers as before and they were good, the second band played all originals and they were awesome, kind of like an AC/DC meets Metallica sound…some hard rock and some thrash it was pretty fun. We were loaded after making several trips to the keg truck and joint after joint. They then began to stoke the fire into a twenty foot high rager with hundreds of wood pallets that had been stacked beside for just this occasion.

Behind the fire was an old broken down city bus with all it’s tires flat and we went in to hang out, as there was a separate party going on there as well. Time continued to fly by as we got ripped, and before we knew it the early morning sun was starting to break and the most trippy thing happened. From all the way from the back of the bus there was a native american who stood up from sleeping on the farthest back seats. I was stunned because I had not noticed him at all from the day or night before. He had all the traditional garb that a Native american would wear at a ceremony, he had a breastplate that was made of feathers and bones and his dark black hair was pulled back in a braid. I kid you not, he adjusted a single large feather that was eminating from the back of his head. I was fascinated as my eyes fluttered to get a good look at him. He just walked by and got off the bus….not a word.

Well once the sun came up we got off the bus and heading toward the keg truck to get some beer, someone said they were out, and we would have to wait two hours. It was then that the guy throwing the party came out with several cases of Heineken green bottles until we could get some more kegs. Just to drive home how good of a party the night before was…We, all the revelers, had finished off one hundred full kegs of Budweiser in the first night! Then they rolled out this huge restaurant sized griddle and proceeded to make pounds of scrambled eggs and bacon and sausages…again jaw on the ground. At about nine in the morning the fresh kegs started arriving…this shit was crazy.

So anyway I come to the embarrassing part of the weekend, my roomate had been telling his friend that I could sing and play guitar really well, I downplayed it..yeah I’m ok. Anyway he said once the band starts playing I should get up and sing, I was like ahhhh alright. Sure enough there was a band playing a few hours later and they were without a singer and playing covers. They told me to get up there and sing, so as they were jamming away and tuning, I got up and I talked to the band. They said what can you sing, I said anything heavy and they suggested Judas Priest. I said sure and forget which song because I think I wanted to black it out.

Now I had listened to every Judas Priest album 100 times so I just thought the lyrics would come to me from the ether or memory. Well they started to play and I could barely sing one verse, I did know the chorus perfect and had them in my hands for a moment but then the second verse kicked in and I felt like I melted right there on the stage. I had lost the plot…I was frickin’ out of my head. It really was not all that bad, no one gave me a hard time but I felt like an idiot. I remember thinking why did I not say Iron Maiden as I would have been able to pull that off easy, but it was not to be. I was in a band and we had a good following so I knew where I stood, I could do it…I just wasn’t prepared like a true professional would. Again another learning experience, I never forgot the words again that’s for sure.

That last day was also wild because it was the day that they would have straight way bike races. Two bikes at a time they would take each other on just like you see in Fast and Furious Movies but with Harley’s. One after the other they would spin their tires and do burnouts sending smoked rubber into the sky to everyone yelling along. Then they had races with Bikers and their Ol’ Ladies on the back…with no helmets of course. I remember specifically one of the bikers would launch a parachute behind him to slow him down at the end of the straitaway. Then people started doing tricks, standing and doing crazy movements while on the huge bikes…lying down while riding, all kinds of stuff.

Just before we were about to leave at the end of the weekend I remember standing by the fire with a few others and someone noticed plastic and metal burning at the ground level in the shape of car batteries. We all looked at each other and laughed ever so hesitantly realizing that we had been standing in front of a burning junk pile that had a lot more in it than wood. We had been breathing in the toxic fumes of a bunch of piled up car batteries. WTF, what else can you say to that…ahhh ok…that can’t be healthy. Anyone got a smoke? So this party went on for three days and we left on Sunday afternoon and just went home and crashed out for two days. It was nice I remember not having to come down off coke or speed so I really slept. Every several hours we got up to eat and smoke a joint in the comforts of home.

Anyway the family that I was living with at that time decided to move to a new house down the street about a mile away. This house was further into a more dangerous part of the neighborhood but the rent was cheaper and the house was bigger. I remember we rented a moving truck and were probably hung over from the night before. We’re loading everything onto the truck to bring to the new place and I remember thinking how this was going to take all day to get this done. Well it turns out that another friend of my roommate was a biker who was not HA but friends again with a group of them and next thing we know they come roaring down the street on their bikes and pull into our large driveway. What could this be about…I’m sure all of us there were all thinking the same thing. One of the bikers comes up to my roommate and says we’ll help you guys move if you buy us beer. Now I should not have to point out that they could afford their own beer, but just so everybody knows, this was this group of guys way of helping out. I don’t know if this is a common thing with other club members but I had heard of the old adage about the HA, “When we do something good no one remembers, when we do something bad no one ever forgets.”

With that said, and after my roommate agreed to the beer thing, they got off their bikes and began helping us move. I’ll never forget these huge bikers carrying boxes out the house and on to the truck. The funny part is what we thought was going to be an all day ordeal, turned into a packed truck in a half hour! We then proceeded to follow the bikers in formation in front of us to the new address. You know how you see the vehicle following the bikers in the make believe TV show Sons Of Anarchy, we got to experience it once for real. When we pulled up to the new address bikes roaring, we could see the neighbors in their yards and windows literally shitting themselves. All the people on their porches on this hot afternoon went into their houses as quick as they could and closed the doors behind them it was very strange. I did not realize that people would react so heavily.

Another thing that we noticed was that people would park anywhere they wanted and spaces were tight and hard to come by. Well from that first day on there were always two parking spaces left open for our vehicles and nobody would dare take them. It was really strange because we did not mean to intimidate anybody but just by the bikers presence that day led to this. Not one word was said to anybody, and it was worse when people in the neighborhood would walk down the street past our house they would literally cross the street to not have to walk near our porch. I never thought that was humourous at all…it was respect out of fear by proxy. They HA never came back to our house again and that fear never seemed to let up in the neighbors. There were even house break-ins in the area…not our house, ever.

So the bikers helped us move in to the new house and that took another half hour at the most…and I remember my roommate saying he was going to ride to the liquor store to get their beer. I assumed he was going to buy a keg and we would have an impromptu house warming party that afternoon…not the case. All they wanted was a couple beers each so my roomate bought a couple cases of Budweiser. They drank a case of beer, about two cold bottles each, which took about ten minutes. Then without saying a word they got on their bikes and drove off.

So that would be my first party and experiences with the HA, times to remember for sure. Other times would not be as eventful, which I will get to in a minute, as the law began to come down on the Clubs. A few years later I had moved to another city (Yes, I am constantly on the move), and we lived one street over from the Hells Angels Clubhouse. It was painted dark red and had black shutters and all the windows were blocked out, as well as cameras facing up and down the street. What was interesting about this Chapter of the HA was that it was the first Chapter of the HA on the East Coast. So the locals had a lot of pride in that…I remember them talking about it and when we would go up to Laconia for Bike Week, if you just said the name of the city everyone knew what Chapter it was. Now don’t get the wrong idea, I was not a biker type in the sense of how you would think of or imagine. I was more of an party enthusiast and wherever there was one, I could be found there. It didn’t have to be a biker party, as a matter of fact it often was other types of parties from Grateful Dead shows to Raves in the California desert.

Anyway getting back to a HA, The Club would throw street parties in our city and block off the whole street by parking bikes at both ends of the road so no cars could drive down. We would walk around looking at all the souped up bikes while walking the dogs. Soon after the local drug task force vehicle pulled up at the end of the street…It was a literal police station on wheels and I remember the huge trailer dropped metal braces onto the road making the unit immovable by any form of force. Then they announced over a loud speaker for everyone to clear the street. It was a pure show of force for what reason I had no idea. Nothing came of it at that point, but they were always trying to raid the place.

Photo Courtesy Of Doc Keyaza !

I remember years later while working at a rock show in the same city, it was 311 with Oysterhead (Supergroup feat. Les Claypool, Trey Anastasio, and Stewart Copeland) opening up and I was doing security from the side of the stage. Some members of the local HA Chapter just walked past some security guards around toward the back of the stage and they were all freaking out about what to do because they were worried about confronting them. They called out to the stage manager on the radios about what to do. I intervened and said don’t worry just let them go, they were not trying to cause any trouble. Like I had said they just walked behind the stage, sat down for a while and smoked a joint, and then got up and kept on going. Again they were not looking for trouble, and we did not want any either. In closing, I’m not going to claim that I know anything about the outlaw life…and there is a reason that there are sayings that hold true in cases like this. It has been said many times before and will be said many times again, because it holds true to the letter; “Those who know won’t say, and those who say don’t know.”

Whatever happened to the girl? That’s a different story for a different time. 😇

Photo Courtesy Of Doc Keyaza !

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CM ☕

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Almost killed / Locked Up Abroad. Escape From Mexico…A Country I Love, Part 1 Of 3…

Today Up On Christmachine Audio Reference Music Server :

DISCLAIMER: DO NOT SHOCK YOUR SELF WITH ELECTRICITY OR DO WHAT I DID AT HOME, YOU COULD BE KILLED. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. I UNDERSTAND ELECTRIC CURRENT PROPERTIES AND WAS TAKING MEASURED RISK. AGAIN DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. I KNOW IT’S BIZARRE THAT I EVEN HAVE TO WRITE THIS. RAWR !!!

It was another beautiful day in San Diego California. Every day is beautiful in San Diego, well that’s not completely true, but for most of the year the weather is fabulous. One of the things that people from Southern California like to do is go south of the border into Mexico / Baja California. I have a great fondness for Mexico always have and I always will. The people, the food, the culture…what’s not to like. Some people say that Baja California does not give you the full Mexican experience, and I agree with that. Comparing Mexico City to Tijuana is a whole different ballgame for sure. For us though, to walk over the border was a fun escape to another world. Today also would be one of those days where I would come close to death but who would have thought. I have been to Mexico many times, before and after this incident…and I will always continue to go. This day though would be one I will never forget.

So on that morning we walked to downtown San Diego to the West Broadway Train Depot, and caught the next trolley for the short ride to San Ysidro. San Ysidro is the end of the Trolley line and also adjacent to the US / Mexico border. When we got off the train everyone would just head en mass to the maze of stairwells and tunnels that take you into Tijuana. Sometimes we would go farther south to other towns like Ensenada where you could get a hotel and all you’re food for the day for 20-30 dollars US. In fact we knew a few Americans who would live in places like Ensenada and come over the border to San Diego every day for work. The reason being that you could live so much cheaper there than in the US. Anyway walking over the border was an easy experience at the time, as immigration did not check our passports leaving the US, only when coming back from Mexico into the US. So no hassles at all…smooth like butter.

So after traversing the maze of tunnels we would come out to a large open square made of granite stone and instantly on the other side of the square we are bombarded with people holding signs to try and get you into there stores selling everything from pharmaceuticals to souvenirs to alcohol “For Cheap”. All the seasoned visitors know that this is not the place to but any cheap goods, they get cheaper the farther you get into Mexico and everything is up for negotiation. You walk away after a bit of interest and they will drop the price often down 75% or to what you are offering. With that said there are a lot of counterfeit goods, just as there are on the streets of New York City. You have to know what to look for in quality so you don’t get taken. Most of you already know this though I’m sure.

After you get through the square, you come to a taxi area that looks like some scene reminiscent of Mumbai, India. Hundreds of cabs and their drivers all vying for your business. Since it’s a short walk to Downtown Tijuana, there is no need to take a cab. Next comes the walk over the footbridge which is a bit sad because there are young children selling things like packs of gum and pulling on your arm as if you did not notice them. Their mothers sit in the crevices of the footbridge watching that there children are persistent. It’s not overwhelming but it gives you a real indication that you are in a whole different world in terms of poverty. The footbridge goes over a large dry aqueduct (like the type you see in movies in LA) and is the real demarcation between the US and Mexico.

After walking down the street southward we come to “The Arch” that welcomes you into Tijuana proper. This is where we come to the main drag which is a left turn into the bustling city, reminiscent of Downtown Istanbul with with a Spaghetti Western flair. This is the main marketplace and you can find just about anything here, again everyone vying for your business and aimed toward the college students or people trying to avoid the official drinking age in the US. Loud music is blaring from the different clubs and bars 24 hours a day…it just never seems to end, kind of like a more lawless version of Las Vegas.

As we stroll we look at all the goods for sale and stop if we find something interesting, but our real aim is the food. Rule #1 always drink sealed bottled water and stay away from anything that contains ice. Bottled beverages are always the way to go, that are kept cold. Avoid ice sold at the street vendors in anything from drinks to shaved ice…I have broken that rule before and did not get sick, but I have seen too many people that have so take it as you wish.

We then arrive at our favorite hole in the wall taco stand. We know it’s great because it is packed as always and the cooks make your food right in front of you either at the bar or in the several booths inside. The food moves quicker than they can sell it, it does not have a chance to sit out in the open for more than a few moments. There is another station where a woman is cooking fresh corn and flour tortilla floutas. The smell is glorious. So as we walk in we grab either a bottled water or a Mexican Fanta made with real cane sugar, in those old style soda bottles with a cap that needs a bottle opener (Or the lighter trick). There is a bottle opener conveniently on the wall right by the cooler. We order the carne asada and carnitas tacos with everything, and tell the waitress to please keep them coming. They come quick and fit perfect in the hand. Topped with melted cheese, red onion, cilantro, and lots of fresh squeezed lime juice. There are two large self serve salsa’s on each table one with salsa verde and the other a roja salsa caliente…do you like it hot or hotter, hmmm choices, choices. Latino music plays in the loud and there are three people just randomly dancing in the small ailes.It is then one realizes that they are immersed in a fabulous culture. It’s heaven Jerry, just heaven!

So after wolfing down as many tacos as possible we ask for la billete and it comes in at just under 20 dollars US. Where can four people eat all the endless fresh taco’s made right in front of you, with water and sodas for under 20 bucks in the US? So after we pay our bill, we head out to wander the streets in search of the unique sights, sounds, and aromas of this amazing country. Sure some of it is a bit camp and touristy, but the deeper you look…the more you find things that you do not need but must have.

As we walk down the boulevard we came to familiar bar, another hole in the wall where there is someone outside trying to convince us into drinking alcohol there. He obviously gets a commission to get takers down for cheap drinks. So as my three friends were into getting some beers at some point. The bids start at 1 dollar US per beer and we haggle down to 50 cents US, and then comes the kicker as always…”The Walkaway”. We notion we’re not interested and as we start to walk away he yells out’ “Let’s make a deal!” As we were piqued with interest, a disheveled looking fella walks out of the bar to us. He is carrying a car battery on his chest slung over his neck and arms with leather straps. Protruding out at length from the car battery’s terminals are two long wires attached to a makeshift connection on the other end to two metal handlebars sawed off and connected, one for each wire. He says to us in broken English, ” If one of you can hold these, one each hand…past red line”, as he points to a dial and voltage meter that has a red line pasted on it…”, then beers 25 cent, if not 75 cent.

Well we all looked at each other to gauge a response, I lit up inside, he did not realize that he had come up against a shark for this type of challenge. Everyone was like no way, forget that…crazy talk! So I asked my mates if they want, I will do it. I wasn’t even going to be having beers. As I said though I had an angle and one caveat, free sodas for me…and they agreed. As soon as we agreed he handed me the handles one for each hand as he began to chuckle and he referred to us now as, “Mis amigos y amigas favoritas”, I had a chuckle as well. It was showtime and my friends were all pleading with me not to do it. I insisted as I said just trust me on this.

So before I took the Pepsi Challenge for 25 cent beers and free sodas, I ask for your patience for a moment as I explain and digress from the matter at hand. Winding back several years earlier, I have a DJ set up always in my flat. My place always has long wires leading to power sources around my space. I would spin vinyl, and as I still do just mix and beat match continuously for hours and hours. I spin everything from Electronic, Dinosaur Rock, Rap, Pop, Metal, Classical, and Alternative as well as all things in between. Right below my old skool wood and fuzz super heavy DJ Coffin, I have a five foot high JBL Bass Rig on wheels for my setup to rest on. The wheels allow my complete setup to move around the house as needed. Down by the wood floor I always have a small matrix of power cords just under the bass rig. One day when I was spinning my bare feet happened to land on the wires and I got a good shock as I had not noticed one of them split. I did notice shortly before that there was some strange noises in the mix as if there was a grounding issue but it came on so gradually, I did not notice till I got shocked. Something happened though I kind of liked the way it felt.

I know some will find this crazy and bat shit but I noticed when I got shocked, the hair would stand up on the back of my neck and I would get goose bumps all over. So like an idiot I did it again and again, until I was standing continuously on the damaged wire. I was not worried about shorting my equipment as the wires fed into a power conditioner that just trips if there is a surge. Yes, rationalization I know, but it felt really good. Over a short period of time I got used to the strength of the voltage and any fear which I initially had faded away. I continued doing it for a few days off and on, and at some point when I moved my rig I swapped out the damaged wire for a new one. I eventually forgot about this experience, until one day at a family cookout someone mentioned how they got shocked and without missing a beat I told everyone what happened to me. The looks I got were epic, it’s as if everyone was looking at a ghost. Until someone broke the silence with some consternation and a laugh…I had never thought to much about it. My family begged me not to do that anymore, but it was still met with some measured laughs.

So here we are at the moment of truth, the man at the bar hands me the two handlebar terminals one in each hand, asks me if I’m, ready. Go for it I egged. He started out with a low voltage turning the dial to 25% of the way to the scratched red line. It then occurred to me that if by mistake he turned it up all the way I could be dead. Putting that out of mind, I just began to meditate a bit and see if I could ride it out. He then went to 50% and I was still fine. I could feel the electricity coursing down my arm and into my head and belly but it was still fine. Then he went to 75% and I had to clench my teeth and I could feel my muscles all over contracting. My arms began to quiver as I gripped the handles but could barely feel them any more, I thought I was going to drop them. Then as everyone on the street was gathering around watching what I was doing, with my mates worried as all heck. They did not look comfortable even though I was doing the heavy lifting and the crowd was cheering me on. Then the man said he was going to red line it and I had to hold for ten seconds, he looked convinced I was going to fail. He slowly raised to the red line in the center and the crowd began to count…Uno, Dos, Tres, Quatro….it was as if time stood still. My teeth began to rattle. cinco, seis, siete…I was definitely at the end of my line, just hoping the handles would not drop, as I said I could no longer feel them but I knew they were hot somehow. Ochooooooooo, Nueeeeeevvveee, Diezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, once I realized we were at 10 he began to lower the voltage. I had done it. Everyone was cheering, it was pretty wild. So we went inside the bar and my friends got their 25 cent beers. I was the man of the hour, exhausted, and the fun had not even begun.

We hung around for a few hours while the friends got their drink on. Then we realized there was about one hour till sunset, and decided to walk around the city, even going off the beaten path, which i would later come to realize paradoxically that our luck had run out and fully kicked into gear at the same exact time. So we get back to the beginning of the main drag and we noticed there was another road with vendors that veered of the main road going downhill but it was heading North West, kind of in the direction back towards the border. We decided to wander on down this road as we entered painters light, my favorite time of the day. I noticed the first vendor was a woman who owned a statue store and the front was open like a garage filled with lots of statues mostly religious in nature but there was other things as well. They seemed to be made of cheap plaster but they were still pretty cool. On the cobblestone street in front of us where statues both painted and unpainted, many I noticed where oddly balanced on the top of round stones, and as the wind was picking up they would wobble a bit back and forth. In the moment, I did not think too much of it as we all just were browsing.

Photo Courtesy Of Doc!

Next thing I know, I hear a small crash behind me about fifteen feet back, It then dawned that one of the unpainted statues had fallen over and smashed on the street. We all looked at each other confused and thinking why the hell are these statues set up on round rocks and I felt bad for the woman…next thing we know she starts yelling at me that I owed her, “150 dollar cash”. I tried to reason with her, it was then all of us knew we were being set up. It was quite clear as I had not even come close to that statue. As she began to yell at me in Spanish, which I understood she was yelling at other vendors to come stop me…I said let’s go this is getting crazy. As we were walking away I could see a group of men forming at the top of the street pointing me out and beginning to head down the street after me. Shit was going downhill fast and I could tell they figuratively wanted my head on a platter as they began to scream “Policia, policia!!!”

I had heard of shit like this before and there was no way I was taking the fall for something I did not do. I had also heard of people being thrown in a Mexican jail for stuff like this and it would take a cash bribe to get out. I then looked at my mates and I said quickly and quietly, “I’ll meet you guys at the border, just take the main road back.” I continued “I’m heading for the border on my own, and then we can take this up with customs officials.” It was my only hope as they we’re coming after me. I bolted down a side street and once I did It looked like I had entered a demolition zone, a back street full of rubble, smashed bricks, stray dogs, feral cats, and trash…something that you might see off the beaten path in Beirut. I was scared shitless, and it was then my “Jason Statham caught up in a Liam Neeson Movie” persona kicked in. Adrenaline full on! The street ran parallel to the main road back to the border but it was still a dozen blocks back to the crossing. I dodged and dived around all kinds of obstacles, climbing over fences…it looked like construction was going on as well but there was literally not one person in sight. Ever hear of a back alley in a different country, with no people on it the likes of which someone encounters in a bad dream. Well I had found it.

The gang that were chasing me cut over to that road as well but as I said it was full of obstacles so they were slowed down as well. I thought to myself, although they were coming they were not fast or gaining on me, so as long as i kept up my pace I would make it too the border before them. After a few blocks I ducked below a damaged wall as I waited a few moments, looking around the corner to the road we originated on and as I predicted my mates walked by and I cut back to them thinking maybe they had given up. So I walked up to them again and they looked worried. I told them if they pop up again I would take off (again) and meet them at the border as originally planned. Just as i finished saying that I looked back up the road and they where running, yelling, and now I noticed several of them were carrying guns and waving them in the air. After seeing that I took off again cutting back towards the same road I had been quickly navigating through those obstacles. Now I knew for sure this was definitely not going to end till we at least got to the border. So I soldiered on not knowing if I was going to get out alive.

Photo Courtesy Of Doc!

Slowly but surely I made my way back towards the border. Next thing you know it sounded like firecrackers going off, however when I noticed puffs of dust coming from the sides of the cement walls and the dirt being kicked up, I then realized, holy shit they’re shooting at me. I just kept going with all that I had in the tank as i continued to hear the sound of bullets going by just like something you would see in the movies. This can’t be real I thought, I’m going to fucking die here. So I don’t know if anyone has ever had something like this happen to them before, but I can bet even if you have not, you can imagine what it would be like. Not pleasant…I did not have time to think, I was going on pure instinct at this point. Ducking and diving, surging and backing off for a moment to mark my path, it still seemed they were not gaining on me. I was sure as hell they were still coming though. Luckily the shooting was sporadic and jagged (not constant), and I took advantage of that fact. Not only that they seemed to be bad shots because they were not even getting close. Who knows, they were probably just trying to get me to stop not actually hit me…I could not be sure.

I realized next as I came around a bend that I was only about three blocks from the foot bridge…I had a bad feeling that this was where they were going to cut me off and catch me. I had to stay positive and I can assure you it was not easy. I could not see the gang behind me anymore but I could here them yelling. I made a break back to the main road and when i got to the footbridge I ran faster than I ever have in my life and made it to the main square at the border. I wanted to make my way over to the main stairways to the tunnels and bridges that led over the border to immigration. One great thing that I realized was the square was filled with people, so I stopped running to not stand out…hoping that I would blend in. I still did walk very fast though. When I got to the walkways I stopped to get my bearings and wait for my friends…a few minutes later the mates come around into the square and I yell and wave to them. As they made their way over to me, there was a small moment of hope that this could be over. We, for a moment (prematurely) hug and talk about what just happened. That moment did not last long.

About a minute later the gang came crowding into the square, and this time they had the freaking police with them…communicating on radios as if they were calling out an APB. I could not believe it…this was insane. Again (for the third time) I said to my mates, “I have to go”…yes, they were stunned. So I bolted up the stairs and ran through the tunnels as fast as I could and eventually I came to the straightway where I could see the the US Immigration turn styles but was gutted because their was a frickin’ line. I could imagine the Mexican Police grabbing me before making it through and claiming jurisdiction. So I took a deep breath, opened my passport, and just kept calm in the line about ten deep. Surprisingly the que went quite fast as there were a few lines open at the same time. I finally got to the customs official and he asked me a few questions. I had to weigh instantaneously in my mind saying anything about what had just happened versus just getting back into the country. I could not hear the angry mob anymore and just went for it. I answered the questions truthfully and he let me pass.

Photo Courtesy Of Doc!

When I got outside of the border crossing station in San Ysidro, I walked over to the trolley platform to wait for my group to catch up with me. I was elated, I could not believe I had made it. After about ten minutes they arrived and we all hugged it out. What a mess…so much could have gone terribly wrong and yet being back in my home country…I was overcome with the feeling of safety. It was finally over. I can tell you this, it was the topic of conversation amongst our friends and family for a while.

Since then I have safely gone into Mexico both the Baja Peninsula and the Mexican mainland and would never encourage someone not to go. It was just the luck of the draw on that day in that moment. I can also say I have been in other life defining situations in the US as well as other places in the world. So I’m not singling out Mexico…as I’ve said it is still one of my favorite places in the world. The Mexican people are a wonderful and hospitable culture. I just happened upon an anomaly. It’s fun to be on TV but I can say without hesitance that I would not trade my freedom and safety for a go at an episode of National Geographic “Locked Up Abroad”, and by the way do you think getting shocked for 25 cent beers and free cokes is really worth it? I do.

Thanks for reading and for all your kind words. Your patience with my insubordination is greatly appreciated. Thanks for all your support!!!

More Interesting Articles and Reviews to come.

Cheers and Bless Bless!

CM ☕

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